


All I Want for Christmas

by KayLingLing7



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Fluff, Holiday, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Meeting the Parents, rated for teens but there is a mention of boners and one heavy makeout scene, summer christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayLingLing7/pseuds/KayLingLing7
Summary: One of many things Jean would say about himself was that he was, undeniably, a winter person. He loved winter. Maybe not all that cheesey Christmas crap, maybe not the decorations and the god-awful music and the really itchy Christmas sweaters, but he loved the season. He loved the snow and the cold, he loved wearing large trench coats and soft sweaters and huge woolly scarves and beanies. He loved hot chocolate and tea and piling 50 blankets on top of himself when he goes to bed.
So he was kind of, really, not happy about having to leave the freezing cold of London to travel 11 hours on Christmas Eve’s Eve, to arrive on the morning of the 24th in sunny sunny crap Cape Town, South Africa.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Foxberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/gifts).



> Hi Foxberry! Hope you enjoy this little fic I did for you! When I saw you wanted a summer Christmas fic it was just perfect, since I am apart of the summer Christmas brigade too. Had to set it in Cape Town instead of Australia, though, because "write what you know" and all that crap, but I hope you like it regardless!

The first thing Jean was greeted with as he stepped off the plane was just absolute _horrible_ heat. It was only seven in the morning, and yet here he was, standing on the tarmac, with the sun glaring down and hitting him square in his tired eyes, the heat pushing against him, the wind warm and gross against his skin. 

He groaned internally, forcing himself to follow the other disembarking passengers across the tarmac into the airport, hopefully back into wonderful, glorious air-conditioning.

One of many things Jean would say about himself was that he was, undeniably, a winter person. He loved winter. Maybe not all that cheesey Christmas crap, maybe not the decorations and the god-awful music and the really itchy Christmas sweaters, but he loved the season. He loved the snow and the cold, he loved wearing large trench coats and soft sweaters and huge woolly scarves and beanies. He loved hot chocolate and tea and piling 50 blankets on top of himself when he goes to bed.

So he was kind of, _really_ , not happy about having to leave the freezing cold of London to travel 11 hours on Christmas Eve’s Eve, to arrive on the morning of the 24th in sunny sunny _crap_ Cape Town, South Africa. 

_Okay, well_ , he thought as he waited at the conveyer belt for his bag, after having stood in a very long line in customs, _that wasn’t fully true_. Not when there was a reason he was in sunny sunny crap Cape Town in the first place.

His bag came around the belt – he quickly grabbed it and made his way under a giant rocky arch proclaiming “Welcome to The Mother City!” in big bold letters, and while he walked down the long corridor towards the exit he pulled out his phone to type with one hand - 

**Jean:** _got my bag. Be out in 2._

He didn’t even have a chance to switch the screen to black when he got a reply – 

**Marco:** _I can’t wait! I’m right outside the exit <3_

Jean smiled down at his phone.

Yeah. There was a reason he was here.

Jean made his way towards the automatic doors, ignoring the people calling to him, asking if he needed a taxi. On the other side of those doors was his boyfriend of 5 months, a boyfriend he hasn’t seen in 4 of those months. There was a wave of trepidation that washed over him as he neared the doors, what if he’s changed, _what if he doesn’t actually like me anymore but he was just too nice to make me cancel my tickets_ , but he pushed through his anxiety back to excitement as the doors opened before him.

It took a moment to find him. Saying the airport was crowded was an understatement, with it being Christmas Eve morning. But eventually his eyes found him and – oh, what a sight for sore eyes. 

Marco was standing to the side of the patrician, grinning broadly while bouncing in place, looking like he was a second away from jumping the patrician to get to Jean. In his hands was a little homemade sign with Jean’s name drawn in big bubble letters, surrounded by badly drawn stars and candy canes. 

Jean couldn’t stop the grin spreading over the face if he tried. Yanking his bag behind him he made his way as quickly as he could to Marco, weaving between slower walkers in frustration until he was there, in front of his boyfriend, slightly out of breath but giddy with excitement. 

“ _Jean!_ ” Marco called out as he flung his arms wide to pull Jean into a crushing hug, rocking him back and forth with his face pressed into Jean’s shoulder. Jean laughed in surprise before putting his own arms around Marco’s broad back, letting his eyes close as he just gave in to Marco’s rocking movement, his scent, his _presence_ after 4 long months apart.

Jean opened his eyes again when Marco pushed back from the hug to place a hand on either side of Jean’s face, clutching his cheeks. “Welcome to Cape Town!” he exclaimed, smiling down at him for a short moment before leaning down to press a long sweet kiss to his mouth. Jean sunk into the kiss, eyes closing once again, hands on Marco’s hips. He’d missed this.

Far too soon the kiss was over and Marco was grinning at Jean again, slinging one arm around Jean’s waist while he grabbed Jean’s bag with the other, walking them towards the. “Do you like your sign?” Marco asked, waving around the sign that he had somehow not dropped in their exchange.

“I can carry my own bag, you know,” Jean said instead, plucking the sign from Marco’s hand. He looked at it for a moment before laughing. The drawings were even worse when you looked at them up close. 

“Hey, don’t make fun of my drawing skills! Not all of us are graphic designers.” Marco tried to pout, attempting to look sulky but failing miserably with the way his eyes were just always permanently creased into a smile. 

“No, your drawing skills are amazing; I’m keeping this sign for the rest of my life.” Jean replied with a grin, meaning every word of it. Marco just rolled his eyes in response. 

They walked past a tree in the middle of the airport, not your typical fir tree Christmas tree, but a skeleton of a tree made of wire and completely covered in white Christmas lights. It was nice, Jean decided – not too gaudy, but still festive.

“Okay, so I really hope you’re ready for this. My parents have been _dying_ to meet you, but they took my aunt and uncle out for wine tasting in Stellenbosch so we have most of today to ourselves before they get back. I was thinking we could do a little bit of sightseeing ourselves?”

Jean must have made a face, because Marco quickly continued, “If you’re too tired to do anything though we can just head home, if you prefer.”

The offer sounded so tempting, and Jean was ready to take it up, but a quick glance at Marco’s face made him back track – he looked so hopeful and worried, and, fuck, if Marco wanted to sightsee then Jean would sightsee. He was only visiting for a few days, after all, and knowing Marco he probably had a whole itinerary of activities he wanted to do. 

So Jean sucked it up – what if he only got 2 hours of sleep on an 11 hour flight? He was young, he could handle a day without much sleep – and shook his head. “No, no, we can totally sightsee, I’d love to-”

And then they stepped outside.

“-holy fuck it’s hot.”

Marco laughed. A full on, geeky laugh capped off with a loud snort. When he recovered from his laughing bought he smiled, saying, “I know, sorry. If it helps, a lot of the sightseeing I had in mind involved staying in the car with the aircon on, and ice cream.”

Jean perked up a little at that idea. “Aircon and ice cream? Sign me the fuck up.”

Marco smiled, kissing Jean on the cheek. They had reached the parking garage, so Marco quickly untangled his arm from around Jean’s waist to pay the parking ticket. “You’re going to love it, I promise.”

* * *

Jean had to admit, he did kind of love it.

Once they’re in the car, the aircon on full blast and some cheesey Michael Bublé Christmas album playing on the stereo, Jean started to enjoy himself. Although the enjoyment might be more for the fact that Marco was sitting next to him, singing along to awfully to It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas.

Jean laughed when the song finished, turning the radio dial down a few notches. “You know, it doesn’t look anything like Christmas, what are you even singing?”

Marco shook his head in exasperation. “Well sorry the whole world can’t have winter and snow and stuff for Christmas. But summer Christmas is great! We have our own traditions.” He sounded like he’d had this argument before.

Jean smiled, amused. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Like picnic dinners on Christmas Eve and swimming before Christmas lunch, and ice-cream.” Marco shrugged, “I mean, it’s really annoying that the whole winter Christmas thing is so globalised that there’s no real way to celebrate or decorate for a summer Christmas, you know? All the shops are filled with fir trees and holly when, like, those don’t even grow in South Africa, and fake snow and snow flake decorations all over the place when? The only place it snows in Cape Town is the Ceres mountains, and that’s only for like two weeks in the middle of July.”

Jean nodded slowly, looking out the window at the scenery. They were driving though some old fancy rich neighbourhood with giant green trees shading the road ahead of them. 

“Yeah, well, Christmas is just a giant commercial materialistic holiday, it’s no surprise it doesn’t cater for different kinds of people, as long as everyone keeps buying the tacky decorations.”

Marco packed out laughing, hard. “Ah, there’s that cynicism I love,” he said, taking Jean’s hand in his own and kissing his knuckles. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but for a lot of people Christmas is still just about family and spending time with the people you love, so. You know. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with you.”

Jean blinked in surprise, his heart stuttering in his chest – both at the little innocent kiss to his hand and the words spoken to him. God, how did he end up with a guy like Marco?

They had met a few months prior, in June, when Jean had been in the canteen trying to find something more appetising than a muffin to have for lunch, in a bad mood from having already had 3 of his drafts for a new advertisement declined, and just wanted to stuff some food into his mouth before he had to go back to his desk and sit in front of Photoshop for another four hours.

He was not paying attention, walking up and down in front of the display of food getting more and more frustrated with his options when he walked straight into someone he hadn’t realised was next to him. With a swear he fell back, dropping his empty tray in the process, and was about to either apologise or cuss out the unseen person (depending on who it was), when he looked up and met Marco Bodt’s eyes for the first time.

Marco had rushed forwards to help Jean and pick up his tray, apologising profusely, while Jean had just stared back at him in shock – who was this attractive man and why had Jean never seen him before? As if reading his mind Marco had smiled tentatively, offering a hand and his name, saying that he was in human resources and was from the South African branch of the company, sent to the London branch for a 6 week exchange. It was awkward, and fumbled, and way too much information given way too quickly.

Jean was immediately smitten. 

For the next two weeks he tried to get to the canteen at the same time every day in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Marco – and on a good day get to have an actual conversation with him – and on days when he didn’t see Marco at the canteen he would fabricate some issue with his contract or canteen ticket or _something_ that would give him an excuse to visit the human resources offices and get to talk to Marco.

On the third week Jean got to the HR department and found Marco sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer with a pair of black frame glasses on his nose. When he saw Jean had saved his doc and taken his glasses off.

“Jean, please take a seat.” Marco had said, gesturing to a seat on the other side of his desk. Jean complied, nervous. 

Marco had taken his time, folding the arms of his glasses in and placing them on his desk before folding his arms and leaning forwards. “Jean,” he had said slowly, and at the time Jean had relished in the way Marco said his name, “I’ve asked around the office and everyone here says they have never seen you come to the HR department once in your 3 years of working here unless you had actually been called in, and yet in the last two weeks you have been here nine times.”

Jean had swallowed audibly, his ears slowly burning red in mortification. _Fuck_ , he had thought, _why am I such an obvious idiot?_

Luckily Marco hadn’t looked like he was reprimanding Jean or creeped out in any way – in fact, he was almost smiling, a twinkle in his eye, when he said, “if I give you my phone number will you stop losing your cafeteria card?”

Jean’s whole face had gone scarlet, but he’d managed to nod in agreement to the answer, and three weeks later after almost constant texting conversations and a few sightseeing dates around London, the two of them had officially started dating.

Jean squeezed Marco’s hand, bringing himself back to the present, and looked out the window at the trees going by. “So? What do you want? Palm trees covered in tinsel?”

“Maybe.” Marco said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Or like... You know, Santa Clause in the form of an old fisherman with a long white beard, delivering Christmas presents on his little fishing boat.”

Jean couldn’t help smiling at the image. “Towed by dolphins?”

“Yes!” Marco exclaimed, throwing Jean a smile. “Rudolph the red nosed dolphin!”

They both laughed, exchanging different ideas for summer Christmas for a while, getting more and more ridiculous as they went until there weren’t any ideas left, and Marco was giggling so much it was probably unsafe to keep driving.

“Oh damn, there’s the sea!” Jean exclaimed despite himself as they pulled past a small mall and head up towards the entrance of a mountain pass. 

Marco beamed. “Yeah, lucky today is such a nice day. The water looks amazing.”

And it did. The water close to the shore was almost turquoise in colour, broken only by the white caps of waves breaking over the beach sand and rocky cliffs, while out further the sea was a dark rich blue stretching out to the horizon where it met the bright blue of a cloudless sky.

“Where are we?” Jean asked, watching as the car climbed the steadily increasing road up the side of a mountain, only to stop at a toll gate.

“We’re in Hout Bay, and this is Chapman’s Peak. I thought it’d be a nice drive to go on, since the weather is so clear.” Marco said with a smile, before opening his window to pay the woman in the toll booth next to them.

They drove along the winding road to the sound of Micheal Bublé singing softly in the background, Jean in awe of the high mountain face covered in fynbos and proteas to the left of the car and the steep cliff side and beautiful ocean to the right.

About five minutes into their drive Marco parked the car at an empty viewing point and smiled at Jean. “I know I promised we’d stay in the car with the aircon on, but do you think you can handle two minutes in the sun to get a quick photo?”

Jean rolled his eyes in false exasperation, secretly pleased to get as many photographs with Marco as possible. “If I _have_ to.”

The smile on Marco’s face proved that he wasn’t buying any of Jean’s bullshit, but he doesn’t argue, just unclipping his seatbelt and opened his door.

Jean watched for a moment as Marco stretched after getting out of the car, his shirt ridding up to show the small of his back, before he opens the car door himself to join him and-

“ _Fuck_ why is it so _hot_ here?”

Marco laughed, grabbing Jean’s hand to pull him closer. “Jean, it’s like 28 degrees. It’s hot, but it’s not _that_ hot. You’re such a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” he sulked, trying not to pout and failing miserably. “When you get back to London you’re going to be complaining about how cold it is and I’m going to laugh at you.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Marco smiled, nuzzling Jean’s cheek with his nose. “But at least I’ll have you to keep me warm.”

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Jean groaned, his face going red. “You are such a _cheese ball_.”

Marco laughed out loud, pulling Jean to his chest so Jean could hide his face in his shoulder in embarrassment. They stood like that for a moment, Jean just taking in the smell and feel of Marco being close to him again after months of being in a long distant relationship, before he got too hot and had to pull away again, as much as he did not want to. “Can we take this photo before I die of heat stroke?”

“ _Baby._ ” Marco accused again, but still pulled out his phone to take a photograph of them. “Smile for me!” he said to Jean, before leaning forwards to kiss his cheek.

 

“Yay, this is adorable!” Marco clicked through the photo, smiling, his arm still around Jean’s shoulder. Jean took a glance at the photo, agreed that it was pretty cute, and turned them around so he could actually take in the view while Marco posted the picture to Facebook.

Once he was done he leaned into Jean’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Enjoying the view?” he asked, close enough to Jean’s ear to send a shiver down his side. 

Jean hummed, leaning back into Marco’s embrace, despite the heat, just enjoying the view and his company. He’d missed this.

It had been really difficult for Jean – for both of them – when the end of Marco’s work exchange had come around and he had had to go home back to home. At the time they had been dating for only two or three weeks, and while it wasn’t serious enough for them to confess their undying love or move across the world for each other, Jean could feel that the relationship would be a one for the books if only it were given the time to mature. Jean loved the person he was when he was around Marco – he hadn’t changed anything about himself to fit into their relationship, but he was comfortable, and happy, and felt recharged in Marco’s presence, something he couldn’t say for any other relationship he had, romantic or otherwise. And he didn’t want that relationship to end.

One night over supper in some half-decent Italian restaurant they had found near work, with only a few days left before Marco had to leave, Jean had worked up the courage broach the topic of their relationship, wondering what the distance might mean.

Marco had looked at Jean for a long moment, long enough to make Jean squirm, before he had taken a napkin to wipe his mouth and folded his arms over the table. “I’ve been talking to my higher-ups, both here and back home,” Marco had said slowly, “and they said that there’s a position that could be permanent for me here at the beginning of January, should I be willing to take it.”

Jean had held his breath, hopeful, waiting to hear where this was going to go.

“I know there are four months between then and now, but I really like you, and I’d like to see where this could go, so... If you’d be willing to give long-distance a chance, I’d really like to keep seeing you.”

Marco had actually looked pretty nervous – which was new to Jean, at the time, having only ever really seen him looking self-assured, not having realised yet that the arm folding thing was a nervous habit – and the fact that he had actually looked nervous, along with the proposal he had just made, made Jean’s heart soar.

Jean put his hand out and touched Marco’s arm, waiting for him to unfold them so he could take his hand in his own with a light squeeze. “Marco, I would really like to keep dating you.”

The smile he had gotten in response was one of the best things Jean has, to this day, ever seen.

What followed was four months of long distance – which wasn’t actually as difficult as Jean thought it would be. Sure, it was difficult to see Marco in videos looking adorable and smiling and not being able to see him in person or touch him, and sometimes it was difficult to find time in a day to keep the text conversations going, or schedule in a phone call. But Jean had never really been in a long-term relationship before, and had only been with Marco for such a short time in person, that being apart from him wasn’t actually all that different from how he had lived before he met Marco. 

The only way it was different was in the way he now had a _person_ , a best friend, someone he could text when he was frustrated about something, and the first person he called when he got good news. It was late in September when Marco had Skyped Jean in excitement, telling him he had officially gotten the job, his work Visa was being sorted out, and the company had offered him housing very close to where Jean currently lived.

“I start in the first week of January, so I was thinking of maybe coming up to spend New Years with you?”

There Marco was, doing that arm-folding thing he does when he’s nervous, like Jean wouldn’t want to see him as soon as possible. Jean had said as much, and Marco had laughed, somewhat nervously.

“Actually, that was something I wanted to ask you about,” he had said, “and I was wondering – if you have the savings and the leave time and actually want to do it – I was wondering if you’d like to come to here for Christmas and meet my family? Before I move up to London?”

This had made Jean’s breath hitch, unexpected and nerve-wracking. Meet the family? Spend the holidays? That was – _serious stuff_. But then again, Marco was moving across the world to a new job in a new country – and while he wasn’t moving _just_ to be close to Jean, Jean knew he was a big part of the decision.

And, fuck, Jean could do with a holiday. And It’d be nice to see where Marco grew up.

...And he’d get to see Marco even sooner than expected. It was sounding better and better.

So Jean had nodded and smiled. “I’ll start looking up ticket prices asap.”

Marco’s face had lit up gorgeously, the effect really lost on the shitty webcam he was using, and soon they were back to talking about their days, complaining about co-workers, exchanging tentative ideas of what to do once they see each other again.

It’s funny, Jean thought, that after four months of intimacy through only speech and video, once they’re back together again there’s so much comfort in silence.

After a few minutes of staring out at the view of the ocean Marco pecked Jean on the cheek again. “Ready to get going?”

Jean took a deep breath in, enjoying the sea breeze for a moment longer. “...Yeah. Let’s go get that ice cream.”

* * *

After going to get ice cream at a small place in Noordhoek (“Kristen’s Kick-Ass Ice Cream? That’s the best shop name I’ve ever heard.”), and a few more hours of driving around sightseeing from the car, Marco eventually decided around 1pm that they could go back to his parents’ house for Jean to settle in. Jean was looking forwards to getting to have a shower and maybe an afternoon nap, but the thought of actually having to meet Marco’s family after all this time was filling him with anxiety, and he was half tempted to just talk Marco into more sightseeing.

Eventually the need for a shower won out, and they headed back to Marco’s place. The house was pretty big, a double story with arched windows and a front garden full of trees and giant succulent plants.

“Mom loves gardening,” Marco explained as he pulled Jean’s bag out the back of the car, ignoring Jean’s protests as he pulled the suitcase through the front door. “She also loves home decor, so be ready for like sixty throw pillows on the bed.”

“The decor is really nice. You have a nice house, Marco.” Jean said, politely, but meaning it. The house was painting a dark beige that was modern but not too dark that it made the rooms look smaller. The sitting room was a beige and teal colour-scheme, and the Christmas decorations went with it – a white Christmas tree with white tinsel on the fireplace and curtain rail, all the baubles and Christmas stockings in shades of teal, silver and purple. Fairy lights were strung everywhere as well, not yet switched on.

“Thanks, but I can’t take any credit for it. I’m only back here since my apartment’s lease ran out and there wasn’t any point renewing it. Come on, my room is upstairs.” And with that Marco turned to head up to the second floor.

Jean followed him, nervous in the new environment. “Your room?”

“Yeah!” Marco turned to wink at him. “I mean you could stay in the guest room if you _want_ , but I have a double bed and an en-suite bathroom. There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

Jean bit his lip. He was so into the idea of sharing a room with Marco, but – “and your parents won’t mind?”

“Mind? Mind what?” Marco pushed open a door upstairs and gestured fro Jean to go in first. “I’m an adult and I’ve been dating you for almost half a year, and I haven’t seen you in four months. Of course I’d want to spend as much time with you as possible. They don’t really care that I have a boy in my room as long as we’re not too loud.”

“Oh my God _why_.” Jean groaned, his face going red.

Marco laughed, pushing him gently into the room. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He slapped Jean’s ass as he walked into the room, getting a squawk in response.

Once Jean had gotten over his indignation he took the time to take in the room. It was plain, the walls the same colour as the rest of the house, the bed a creamy off-white with blue pillows and, as Marco had warned, at least six throw pillows. The rest of the room only consisted of a desk with a laptop, and a bookshelf with a few books and trinkets on it.

“This used to be my room when I was a kid, but mom changed it up into a guest room when I moved out, and most of my stuff has either been packed for the move or put in storage.”

Jean walked over to the bookshelf and took some of the small details in. The few books were the complete collection of Harry Potter, and well as some fantasy series including The Inheritance Cycle and Lord of the Rings. There was a little blue teddy bear with a missing eye, and a plushie of a little blue shark next to it. On the shelf below them were a scattering of old photographs, including a photograph of Marco when he was a baby, standing naked in a bed of flowers, and one of him when he must have been in high school, looking less tan but still with the dorky middle-parting of hair and a set of braces on his teeth.

“Oh, Marco, look how cute you were!” Jean ran a finger over one of the photo frames with a smile. 

“Oh man, I forgot about some of those,” Marco said with a chuckle, coming to stand behind Jean. “I used to hate some of them when I was younger.”

“Not anymore?” Jean asked, leaning towards Marco instinctively.

“No,” Marco hummed, taking the hint and circling an arm around Jean’s waste. “I can look at old photos now and appreciate them, for nostalgia sake. I don’t feel like I have to burn them, like I used to in high school.”

“I’m glad you didn’t burn them, they’re adorable.”

“Yeah.” Marco leaned in to kiss Jean’s temple – he’d been doing that a lot today. “My parents should be home within the next hour. Did you want to take a shower before they get here?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Let me do that quickly, I’d love to get a nap in too if I can.” Jean quickly disentangled himself from Marco so he could move towards his bag. Marco smacked his ass again as he went.

“Hurry it up then, I know you and your long showers.”

Jean grabbed his toiletries and stuck a tongue out at Marco before heading into the bathroom.

* * *

Twenty minutes later (Jean really had tried to be quick, but the warm water on his back had felt so good after a long day and night up) he returned from the bathroom in a nice pair of jeans and a purple dress shirt, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He found Marco lying on the bed with a tablet in his hand with his glasses on. 

When he saw Jean he smiled, placing the tablet on the side table, taking the glasses off for good measure. “You look nice.”

Jean fidgeted with the cuff on his shirt. “I, uh, yeah. I want to look nice for your parents.” It was a bit too hot for a long-sleeved shirt, even if it was pretty thin cotton, but it was the nicest shirt he had and fuck it if he wasn’t going to make a good first impression. 

Marco smiled reassuringly, taking Jean’s hand and pulling him to the side of the bed, so his knees were against the mattress. “Relax, Jean. They’re going to love you. And even if they don’t, I’m moving to London in five days, they can’t do anything about me dating you while I’m on the other side of the world.”

Jean huffed, not making eye contact. “They’re your parents, though. I want them to like me.”

“They’re going to _love_ you. Now come here, you goof.” With a tug on his wrist Marco pulled a squawking Jean down onto the bed, half-way on top of Marco’s chest, and smiled at him, snaking a hand around his back. “I’ve been waiting to be close to you all day.”

Jean rolled his eyes, but positioned himself over Marco comfortably none-the-less. “Who’s fault is it that we were running around sightseeing all day when we could have been here instead, making out for hours?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Marco hummed, a hand slipping down Jean’s back to press a palm to the swell of Jean’s ass through his jeans. “We’ve got time now, though.”

“So it seems.” Jean leaned forwards, ghosting his lips over Marco’s, waiting.

He didn’t have to wait long. With a squeeze to his ass Marco leaned forwards to cover the distance, capturing Jean’s lips in a heated but slow kiss. Jean hummed into it, pressing back, enjoying the feeling of being so close, his whole body in contact with Marco’s. If only there weren’t _clothes_ between them, but that would have to wait until later.

They both get really into their makeout session, hands and lips moving everywhere, Marco’s lips on Jean’s neck and Jean’s hands in Marco’s hair, tugging and sighing and gasping for breath.

Jean ground down against Marco and realised they were both half-hard. Marco must have felt it too, latching onto the skin of Jean’s neck and he thrust his hips up, pulling Jean down against him. Jean moaned.

There was something Jean was forgetting – why hadn’t he taken his pants off yet? What –

“Marco, honey! We’re home! Are you and Jean here?”

_Fuck._

“Fuck!” Jean cussed quietly, pulling away from Marco only to press his face into the crook of his neck. He could feel his face flushing bright red.

“Hey, Ma! Yeah, we’re here. Just give us a minute!” Marco called back, patting Jean’s back in condolence. He sounded like he was close to laughing.

“Take your time, sweetheart. We got pie! And strawberries!”

“Okay! Cool!” Marco called back, before focussing his attention back on his mortified boyfriend on top of him, stroking soothing circles into his back. “You okay?”

“I’m going to have to meet your parents with a fucking boner.” Jean whined into his shoulder.

Marco chuckled quietly. “I’m sure the fright has killed it by now, sunshine. Take a few moments to just calm down.”

Jean sighed, pushing himself up, off of Marco and the bed to take a look at himself in the mirror. His still wet hair was all over the place, but luckily fixable. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, but that could be blamed on it having been in a suitcase for awhile. No, the real problem was – 

“Marco fucking Bodt, did you give me a hickey when I have to meet your family in less than a minute?” Jean seethed, pocking at the bright red spot on his neck.

Marco laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t made a move to get off the bed and make himself look any more presentable. “Ah, yeah. In hindsight, that wasn’t the best idea.”

“In _hindsight_? I swear to God-“

“Jean!” Marco quickly got off the bed to put a reassuring hand on Jean’s shoulder. “It’s fine. It’s my fault. I promise, they’ll make fun of me for it, they won’t judge you at all.”

Jean pouted, still embarrassed but needing a scapegoat. “Promise?”

“Pinky swear. Don’t worry, with my aunt and uncle here too they’re all going to be trying so hard to tease me they’ll be on their best behaviour with you.” Marco kissed Jean’s temple. “They want you to feel welcome, after all.”

Jean pushed his embarrassment down with a sigh. “Okay. Fine.” Jean went to his bag to grab something from where he had left it on top of his clothes and walked back to Marco with it in hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Marco’s beaming smile was as big as his face. “They’re going to love you,” he said, taking Jean’s hand and leading him out the room.

They walked down the stairs, Jean just slightly behind Marco, towards the kitchen, where Jean could hear muffled talking and laughter. His heart was beating a mile a minute in his chest, making him feel vaguely nauseous, but he pushed through, swallowing down fear. Marco squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

Marco led the way into an uncluttered large kitchen. A woman was cutting vegetables by the stove, a man doing dishes, with another man and woman leaning against the counter, both holding glasses of some drink or another in their hands. 

Marco squeezed Jean’s hand.

“I’d like you all to meet my boyfriend, Jean.”

Everyone in the room immediately stopped what they were doing. The woman cutting vegetables dropped the knife and spun around. She looked similar to Marco, the same hair colour and freckles, but a lot shorter and with curly hair that framed her face in a short bob. She made a very excitable noise similar to a squeak before rushing over to them, a broad smile on her face.

“Jean! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” the woman gushed, pulling Jean into a strong hug before pushing him back by the arms, taking him in. “I’m Amelia, Marco’s mother. Look at you! You’re as handsome!” Jean noticed her take in the bright red spot on his neck – he waited for the inevitable outburst at it, but it didn’t come, her eyes flittering straight over it to focus on the item he was holding in his hands.

“Oh! Um,” Jean stammered, realising he was suppose to say something. “It’s nice to meet you! I, uh, brought these for you. It’s not much, but Marco said you liked them.” Jean held out his peace offering - not an actual Christmas gift, because he’d saved those to give to Marco’s parents in the morning, this was more a “thank you for letting me date your amazing son” gift. It was a large box of chocolates he got at the airport, Marco had mentioned previously that his parents had loved them, and sure enough Amelia’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“I knew my boy had good tastes in men!” Amelia cried out in delight, taking the chocolates and kissing Jean’s cheek as a thank you – maybe this is where Marco gets all his cheek-kissing from, Jean thought in amusement. 

“How thoughtful. Thank you, Jean.” Jean looks up to see the man who had been doing dishes had come to stand next to Amelia. “James.” he said, holding out a hand for a shake. Jean took it in his own with a small smile.

James was an unintimidating man, shorter than Marco with a receding hair line, lighter complexion, and warm brown eyes. He looked like the kind of father that was helpful with homework and set spiders free outside instead of killing them.

Marco moved forwards to put a hand on Jean’s shoulder. “And this is Auntie Pat and Uncle Rickie, Auntie Pat is my mom’s sister.” he introduced, nodding at the other family members in the room, who smiled and both came forwards to give introductions. “And before any of you comment on it, yes Jean has a hickey on his neck, yes it was my fault, and yes, I have no self control. Please direct all your complaints at me and not Jean.”

Jean immediately went bright red, but the adults in the room just laughed. “Honestly, Marco, I wasn’t going to mention it,” Amelia laughed, smacking his arm. Marco just grinned sheepishly in response. Amelia turned back to the counter, where Jean could see she had been cutting strawberries before, not vegetables. “Do you boys want some strawberries and pie? We’ll have supper in maybe 3 hours.”

“Yes please,” Marco answered, Jean nodding next to him. “Do you need any help with anything?”

“No, I’m fully capable of cutting strawberries myself, thank you. You two just sit down, I’ll bring everything to the table. You too, Pat, Rick. I don’t need all of you hovering in my kitchen.” She shooed them all into the dining room, Jean’s aunt and uncle chuckling as they went. Jean couldn’t help smiling, either.

“See? I told you they would like you.” Marco said from behind Jean, putting an arm around his waist. Jean just rolled in eyes in response, but his smile grew larger regardless.

* * *

They finally retired from the company of Marco’s family around nine o’clock, and Jean was _exhausted_. It didn’t help that the sun only set at 8 o’clock here, which confused him greatly when he considered the time it usually set at home, this time of year. He was at least grateful for the fact that back home the time was only two hours behind, so he didn’t have to deal with jet lag. He was just so _tired_.

When he got to the bedroom he immediately fell face first on the bed, groaning into the pillow. Marco chuckled softly behind him, and Jean could feel the bed dip next to him as Marco got on the bed himself.

“You okay?” Marco asked, placing a hand on Jean’s back. Jean just groaned again, but managed to turn his head to look at him. Marco smiled, looking sleepy and warm and beautiful. “Did my family wear you out?”

“Ah, no. Not particularly.” Jean yawned. “The travel and sightseeing and everything else has exhausted me, as well.”

“Ah yeah, busy day.” Marco hummed. “Thanks for coming to spend Christmas with me, Jean.”

Jean’s eyes had been slowly falling closed, but at that he blinked them wide open. “What?” He asked, sitting up.

Marco smiled sheepishly. “I know the hot weather isn’t really your cup of tea, and you could have been spending time with your own family instead, but it means a lot that you decided to come here.”

Jean huffed. “Marco, there’s no other place I would rather be than right here, next to you.” he said, falling forwards to rest against Marco’s chest.

Marco smiled, wide and warm, his eyelids falling heavy over his tired eyes. “Who’s the cheese ball now?” he teased, brushing a hand through Jean’s hair. Jean sighed into the touch, his eyes slowly falling closed. “Hey, don’t fall asleep now, get those jeans and that shirt off or you’re going to wake up boiling hot in the middle of the night.”

Jean groaned, eyes still closed. “Do I have you?”

“ _Go_. I need to change too.”

With one last huff Jean forced himself up and dragged himself towards his suitcase. He changed quickly, not bothering to go to the bathroom, and as he was bending down to get his night clothes he spotted something tucked in to a side pocket. Frowning, he pulled it out only to see the piece of cardboard Marco had greeted Jean with at the airport that morning, badly drawn stars and all.

He smiled down at it fondly, smoothing out a tiny crease in one of the corners before very carefully placing it inside his bag where it wouldn’t get damaged.

When he straightened back up Marco was already pulling the cover off the bed to get under the duvet, smiling broadly across the room at Jan. “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” Jean said, returning his own small smile as he climbed across the bed to join his boyfriend. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Marco leaned to the side to switch off the light before kissed the top of Jean’s head, getting comfortable with his arms around him. “See you on Christmas morning.”

As Jean tucked himself into the crook of Marco’s arm, he couldn’t help thinking it would definitely be the best Christmas of his life, thus far, if he gets to wake up with Marco besides him.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the drawing on Tumblr if you'd like to reblog it! [HERE](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/154946780396/all-i-want-for-christmas-a-jeanmarco-gift-exchange)


End file.
